


the only heaven i'll be sent to (is when i'm alone with you)

by ghostrider



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Self-Harm, also v minor payzer and sophiam, dude a lot of ot5 feels like a LOT OF THEM, nobody actually dies in the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 15:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3983596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostrider/pseuds/ghostrider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>zayn gets in an accident and then meets five angels who help him choose between life and death (liam and heaven).</p>
            </blockquote>





	the only heaven i'll be sent to (is when i'm alone with you)

**Author's Note:**

> this is loosely based on one of favorite novels; the five people you meet in heaven by mitch albom. i wrote something like this back when i was new at writing and now i've rewritten this, made it a hundred times better. so i hope yall enjoy. :) x
> 
> title from: take me to church - hozier

Hundreds of novels thrown together, thousands of pages unruffled. Millions of characters mixed. It gives birth to a world. With so many people, so many things, so many emotions. The times when you know for sure nothing can go wrong, and others when you are certain everything shall end.

The wind blowing against everyone’s face. To each, bringing a different meaning.

So many different buildings. All standing to survive, to support, give shelter. Yet, all of them different in countless ways; some under construction by workers thinking of their homeless kids. Others painted neon yellow and blue. Amongst these stand hospitals. Attracting the common man’s attention but containing the mightiest of mankind’s miseries and suffering.

Common man. They all are common. A face, body, limbs. But then, they are different in so many ways. Each sees the sunrise in a different light. Each with his own set of ambitions, dreaming of something distinct every night, each facing something new every day, each with his own share of troubles thinking they are the greatest.

Zayn Malik, of twenty, is no different.

Except that his set of troubles, really do seem to outweigh all others. At times it feels like God likes to stab him in the back, at others it feels like he is God’s biggest mistake.

Since he was a child, as far as his memory can go, he has had to suffer. Still remembers his parents’ screaming, that started somewhere during dinner and ended somewhere into the break of dawn. He could never figure it out; two people fell in love, married each other, had kids and then suddenly they were launching themselves at each other as if thirsting for each other’s blood, hitting each other where they knew it would hurt. He doesn’t know how, but he endured it when the bangs and thuds echoed through their house, resting his head on his sister’s lap, while she covered his ears, swallowing her own tears, singing to him, helping him cry himself to sleep.

That day came then, the day he knew was coming, the day his sister had told him about, the day he used to fear; his parents were getting a divorce and he wanted to shout at them. Ask them why they married each other in the first place. The thing was, he loved them no matter how disoriented they were. He loved his father and his hugs, he loved his mother and her kisses. He didn’t want to choose between them, he didn’t want them to separate. And maybe that was selfish but Zayn was only ten. It’s okay to be selfish when you are ten.

Just when the final straw was about to break, just when his life, which he had been gluing together since a long time, was about to crack from the middle and fall apart, God decided to surprise him with the unexpected. He watched his father apologize as he refused to sign the papers and he watched his parents embrace each other, crying into each other’s necks.

Zayn saw love.

It was an unusual kind but it was love all the same. How the people who were bound on killing each other a day ago were hugging and forgiving each other right in front of his eyes, it was miraculous. He couldn’t have even imagined it. Before he could think and ponder, he and his two sisters were enveloped in their parents’ arms, truthful and genuine tears flooding their eyes, as they softly resolved to ‘start over and begin a new life’.

Only that those words didn’t really mean what Zayn had thought they meant. It wasn’t a new life for Zayn; it was a new life for his parents. His family was back together, but it really wasn’t. The only time he saw his parents was during dinner, sometimes during breakfast. The only thing that changed was the screaming and fighting which ceased. And Zayn was happy about that, he was happy his parents weren’t adamant on murdering each other. As for Zayn; he still went to his elder sister when some problem arose, still sat next to her sharing things what other normal kids shared with their parents. He still craved for her mother’s attention but all he got was a goodnight kiss which didn’t seem to calm him anymore. Craved for his father’s hugs, the little pats on the head, but all he got was a ‘ _good morning_ ’ or ‘ _your math teacher called me today_ ’.

All his parents seemed to care about was each other, everything around them nonexistent. Trying to know each other again, trying to amend their mistakes. And his new little baby sister, with eyes the color of caramel and cheeks the color of strawberries, was just the living proof of that.      And he loved her. He loved Safaa with all his heart because she was seriously the sweetest little thing that he had ever seen in his life. Smelling of bananas, and cheap baby powder. Her little hands and little feet and toothless smile; his new sister was the most beautiful thing in the world. His other two sisters loved her too; Doniyah spent too much time looking after her as his parents were almost always out and Waliyha helped her when she wasn’t on the phone with her friends.

And then one day, when Zayn had completely sunk into his new life, everyday a scripted twenty four hour long run that he had memorized by heart, something new occurred. He was fourteen at the time, when he realized, in front of a computer screen, watching something he’d get grounded for if Doniyah found out, that he wasn’t really interested in girls. At first he thought it was nothing, but then after a month or two of research and experimenting with his friends, he accepted his sexuality. And he was scared. Nobody in his family was like him, not anyone that he knew of at least. His mum and dad were too busy vacationing to listen to him, so he decided to seek out his grandfather’s help.

He had always been close to his grandfather, had grown up listening to his stories; what he did with his friends when there was no internet, how he lived through a war when he was young. Thus, when he wanted advice and help, his grandfather had come to mind. He had waited for the weekend, impatiently so. And when Friday came; he walked home from school, almost jogging all the way, ready to ask Doniyah to drop him off at his grandparents.  

But because nothing good could happen to him, he reached home to find his tear stained mom on the couch, Doniyah sniffing into a tablecloth, sat at the table. And he still remembers how he had literally felt the life being sucked out of his body at the heart shattering news of his grandfather’s death.      At the funeral, he had been dead quiet, only asking God one thing when his grandfather was lowered into the ground; _why?_

Zayn knew he had nobody again so he just went back to thriving alone; he decided his sexuality wouldn’t be a big deal if he just refused to acknowledge it. It wasn’t like his parents actually cared enough to ask him why he was single so he knew he wouldn’t be questioned by them. His friends teased him at times but he was used to that so it didn’t matter. Burying who he was somewhere deep inside, he focused the entirety of his attention on studying and getting out of high school, to go to some college or university and start living alone – independent, free.

And then he found a new passion within him, a new outlet to his feelings about everything; singing.

Times when he sang his little sister to sleep and times when he sang for Waliyha’s friends, other occasions when with his friends he sang in his school’s numerous talent parades. All those times mashed together and it didn’t take him long to realize that yes, he did have an amazing voice which had the ability to conjure up countless emotions in peoples’ eyes, and in his chest. Singing about things made him feel lighter, focusing on a passion made him feel occupied; as if he was in a whole other world.

Before he even knew, before he could even think, Doniyah was dragging him to audition for ‘The X-Factor’, a talent show he only sometimes watched on TV, a show he never imagined he’d be a part of. And then he was singing in front of celebrities he’d seen on the news, and was getting compliments that made his heart skip countless beats. The next moment, he was in boot camp with numerous other hopefuls and then after jumping through obstacles and difficulties – almost making a fool out of himself on international television because of his amateur dancing – he was being shoved into the live shows, but this time, not alone.

Four boys, almost of his age, sharing the same passion, reflecting the light in his eyes with their own, stood by him as he performed in front of the world, singing his heart out every time. After sixteen years of never-ending misery, Zayn thought that maybe his life would now take a brighter turn. He had four new people in his life, who called him their best friend, who took care of him and each other. He thought he could settle into them, start a new life with the boys he now called his brothers, the boys with whom he was slowly taking over the world.

He was wrong. Which wasn’t even a surprise anymore.

Because there he was with his bleached hair, falling over his forehead, shiny and straight. With his glassy eyes and wide smile, with his muscles and his voice. His face, his hands, his existence. Liam Payne, his band mate, his best friend, his brother (as he liked to call himself). Liam, with his sensibleness, the care in his eyes. And his dreams and aims. His concerned eyes whenever he thought Zayn was sad, his genuineness. His eagerness to listen to Zayn talk, the way his eyes smiled when Zayn did. And Zayn knew every day he spent with Liam, every night they spent talking or playing video games, habitually lying beside each other, shoulders pressed, legs thrown over each other’s; he kept falling more and more into the pit he had dug up for himself by letting himself feel things for Liam he shouldn’t be.

Since Liam, wasn’t only way out of his league but he was also straight. Even worse, he had a girlfriend. Danielle, a curly haired girl who danced in the background during their performances. Who had Liam head over heels for her, the first day they met. So Zayn was glad he had other boys in the band, other best friends because he needed to lean on someone when Liam was out on a date, or in a corner making out.

Harry was pretty okay; Zayn had taken to him immediately, stupid jokes and long limbs that were everywhere at all times. Louis was okay too; didn’t ever say no, always up for mischief, brimming with ideas to make everyone’s life hell with harmless pranks. Niall was the same; strumming on his guitar, laughing his heart out at almost everything even minutely funny.

Liam wasn’t okay. He was far more than that. Liam had limits and he had boundaries but when he was with Zayn, everything about him changed. He laughed more than usual, smiled until his jaw hurt and unknowingly, he made Zayn’s heart flutter uncontrollably in his chest. And Zayn knew he was gone, not once, not twice, every single time. Liam had stars in his eyes, the universe in his heart and Zayn wanted to leave everything behind and go live there.

There were times in the night, when Liam would just slide into Zayn’s bed, not even asking for permission anymore, since Zayn had somehow given that to him a long time ago. And they would stay up all night talking; superhero movies, friends at school, first kisses. Liam was the first one to know about Zayn’s family background and Zayn was the first to know about Liam’s one kidney. He was the one who had gotten drunk on something Louis gave him and then had accidentally kissed Liam in the middle of the night just because Liam’s face was too close, his scent overwhelming. He was the one who had licked Liam’s lips, cupped Liam’s face, felt him kiss back but unfortunately, he wasn’t the one who had pulled back and brushed it off as a joke.   Liam had done that for him, Liam had unknowingly shattered his dumb, weak heart.

Soon enough, the kiss was forgotten, getting lost in the air as an accident, a joke. They carried on their friendship; Liam because he cared about Zayn too much, had no intentions of hiding it and Zayn because whenever he tried to push Liam away, he mysteriously ended up taking a few steps towards him instead. There came a time, when they knew each other inside and out, could read each other like open books and words became unnecessary. None of the boys knew Liam like Zayn did, none of the boys knew Zayn like Liam. And that space inside his chest, that Zayn’s grandfather had left hollow and lost, filled with all the care and warmth that Liam brought with him into Zayn’s life.

At that point, the only things Liam didn’t know about Zayn were; (1) he was gay and (2) he was kind of, almost, completely in love with Liam. The hugs and touches that meant nothing to Liam, meant everything to him.

Needless to say, Zayn was _scared_ again. One good part in his life, where he was building a career, building a life, achieving his dream and that too was tainted with misery due to the constant presence of Liam around him. Which he knew wasn’t going to end, considering how successful his band was becoming day by day; they had lost ‘The X-Factor’ bagging third place, but had signed a contract a day later. And now they were doing their own gigs all over the place; he knew they’d be doing this for a long time. And the permanence of Liam in his life was comforting as much as it was batshit frightening.

Because how long until his secret was out, how long until he did something stupid like the kiss again and Liam found out. He was scared of his secret, he feared the day when his facade of being heterosexual would wear off and his friends would look at him with eyes full of disgust. Liam would look at him with repulse and revolt, betrayal and disbelief. He feared he’d be left alone again, just because he had no command over who he liked. And he didn’t want to lose his friends, he couldn’t imagine losing Liam; they were all he had. His sisters too busy, his parents too consumed. His band mates were all to whom he truly meant something.          
  
Multiple times he had considered leaving the band, considered leaving mid show, mid tour. But then had realized he had nowhere to go neither did he have a legitimate excuse. Liam was driving him crazy by being so careful with him, by being so unattainable.

Then came a time, after a lot of hoping and hiding, when Liam broke up with Danielle. Nobody saw it coming, it was a shock to the entire band. Liam looked like he had been love, but he and Danielle were over and it didn’t even take Liam a lot of time to get over her. Because three months later, during which Zayn gathered courage a lot of times to come clean in front of Liam, confess and face him but just could never do it, Liam had another girl by his side. Sophia, someone who went to school with Liam and had met Liam at a party.

Liam never talked about Sophia with Zayn, like he used to about Danielle, but then Zayn didn’t expect him to. Liam had changed somewhere during the success of their third album and the discovery of his second kidney. Had started getting tattoos, getting shamelessly drunk, at a point had even shaved his head off out of nowhere. His sensibleness had been scraped off him and a new Liam had emerged from underneath. But with Zayn, most of the times, he was still the same Liam with the bleached, straight hair. He still slid into his bed, still touched him with the same gentleness. Still watched movies with him, at times even stayed at Zayn’s place not bothering to leave until they were called in for work.

The nights Liam wasn’t by his side were the absolute worst because that was when Zayn realized how pathetic he was; checking Liam’s twitter again and again to watch him tweeting endlessly about how much he loved his girlfriend. Those were the nights when reality actually sank in, making him understand how impossible his condition was, how he was wasting his time going after someone who could never be his, who was already somebody else’s. How everything just conspired against him, how he should have never expected happiness in the first place. On one side, he had his singing and passion and the fans, the only thing which made him feel better about himself, made him _forget_ , and on the other there was Liam; adorable, lovable, brown hair, crinkles beside eyes. There was both thrill and desperation in what Zayn was doing and soon Zayn found out how to rid himself of the misery, how to let it all drain into the sink with a razor blade.

He knew he shouldn’t hurt himself, he knew cutting wasn’t the solution. But it made him feel less miserable about himself. It was a good kind of pain, better than the one he had to endure around Liam. So he tried sinking into it; letting the ache out through his veins, getting himself heavily tattooed all over so the cuts and scars weren’t distinguishable, smoking feelings out of his system at any time of the day.

And somewhere during that time Zayn forgot who he was; transforming from the smart, enthusiastic one to the quiet, distant one. He started to maintain his distance, started locking his door at nights so that Liam wouldn’t come trotting in, didn’t answer the door when Liam rang the bell. Stood in his own corner on stage while performing and shifted away if Liam came a little too close. He caged himself up, started to stay out of the hotels and tour buses for longer hours and before he knew there was a change taking place in his relationship with all of the boys. Specially, Liam.

His band mates thought he was tired of working so hard, he needed some time alone, personal space. They thought that he was different from them; in colour and religion, so maybe he felt left out. Or maybe he hated them because they always invaded his privacy, and talked too loud around him. They thought he needed distance and they started to give him just that. They stayed away, gave him his space, and never approached him until he did. They talked in whispers around him, didn’t call him from his room when they were going for an outing. The light in Harry’s eyes went out when he looked at him, and he gave him a smile which he didn’t respond to. Niall walked on egg shells around him, not stealing food from his plate anymore. Louis sometimes threw his door open and walked in, loudly saying something then realized what he had done and apologized, _actually_ apologized before walking back out.

Liam was the worst; he just cut himself off completely. He was the one who had tried to break down Zayn’s barriers before and maybe that had been some kind of mistake, so guilt gnawed at his heart for climbing into Zayn’s bed, for making him spill thing and share stuff. But that wasn’t all, his boys were falling apart around him and he could do nothing about it. Liam was the strong one, the spinal cord that kept the band together. Looked after his mates but since after Zayn’s detachment, the dynamic of their band seemed to have distorted. And if anything, that made Liam more furious than it made him sad.

Because Zayn had no reason to shut everyone down if he had issues with Liam, Zayn didn’t have to treat Harry like shit, didn’t have to ignore Niall, didn’t have to turn away from Louis. They had big shows to perform and Zayn just couldn’t pretend to love them in front of people and then shut them all out behind closed doors. It was unfair, it was brutal, they were losing Zayn and they were losing themselves.

And Liam couldn’t let that happen so he waited one night for Zayn to return from wherever he had gone off too, a miserable feeling in his chest as he sat on the couch in Zayn’s hotel room, nails disturbing the material of his faded jeans.

One hour after midnight, Zayn had returned, stumbling into the room, leather jacket over a dark blue shirt, hair a disheveled mess, footsteps screaming drunk. The moment Zayn’s eyes found Liam’s, he stopped in his tracks, feeling his heart scream in pain.

“Liam, what are you doing here?” he had managed to say, the bitter taste of alcohol at the back of his throat.

“Where were you, it’s one in the morning?” Liam had said, coming towards him, his face showing concern more than anything else.

Stupid concerned Liam, stupid _stupid_ Liam.

“Out with friends,” he lied.

“What friends? We are in America, you have no friends here,” Liam said, as he tried to walk past Liam, stopped by Liam’s strong grip around his arm.

“I made some,” he slurred.

“Why? Because suddenly Harry, Louis, Niall and I aren’t enough for you?” Liam had seethed, and Liam never talked to him like that.

Liam never got angry with him; Liam was always gentle, So gentle and sweet and adorable and _stupid_. So stupid he never even knew how much he meant to him. How _enough_ he could be for Zayn.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked.

“Why have you been avoiding all of us?” Liam asked.

“Because it’s better that way,” he said, his fuzzy brain spitting out the truth, “I can’t get too close.”

“Why not?”

“You can’t know.”

“Now you’re going to keep secrets from me?”

Liam’s breath was on his face, the loud voice shattering his ears. He couldn’t think, he didn’t like how Liam’s voice was bitter and loud.

“I have always kept secrets from you,” he blurted, “You were just too stupid to see.”

Liam let go off his arm, a gasp out of his mouth. Like he couldn’t believe Zayn would say something like that, Zayn couldn’t believe he said something like that.

“I thought we were best friends,” Liam had asked in a small voice then, “I thought we loved each other.”

“We loved each other… Only if we _loved_ each other,” Zayn laughed bitterly, he didn’t know why, he just had. Maybe because Liam knew fucking nothing and he also couldn’t tell Liam fucking nothing.

“Was it all a lie then, you’ve actually never truly cared about me?”

And the fact that Liam could actually ask him that, like Liam could actually think that that might be a possibility made blood rush to his brain, crashing against walls of his vessels like a freight train.

“Liam you are so stupid, you are so stupid and dumb and you know fucking nothing,” he spat out, “How can you ev- why can’t you just fucking see- fuck? We don’t have to do this, get out of my room!”

“I am not going until you tell me why you hate me so much.”

“I fucking don’t, now get out!”

“Then why are you pushing me away like this?”

“Because you get on my fucking nerves! You make my life a living hell, I wish you had never fucking came into my life god damn it, every second is a fucking pain around you, do you fucking understand?!”

There was silence, that went on for minutes and minutes, an eternity, as Liam stared at him, shaking, fists clenched at his sides, lips pressed in a line, “I didn’t know. I didn’t know you hated me that much.”

“And I didn’t know you are so fucking stupid, you still don’t fucking get it!”

“I hate you so much right now, I don’t even want to look at you,” Liam said.

And that hurt more than anything because that wasn’t how he was supposed to end things with Liam; it was supposed to be another way, which consisted of him saying goodbye and offering a false excuse that Liam would see right through. It didn’t consist of Liam spitting venom at him, of Liam crying.

“I only came here to tell you to be nice to Harry, Niall and Louis because they love you. You don’t have to shut them out because you hate me,” Liam continued in a bitter voice, “Personally, I have nothing to do with you and your arrogant self. From now on, I will make sure I don’t exist for you and you for me since that is what you want. But don’t shut them out, I can’t see any of y- I can’t see them sad.”

And then Liam just walked past him, making sure not to touch as he stood there, wincing at the door slam. Contemplating whether he should go behind Liam and apologize and tell him what he actually meant, why being around Liam was a pain. Liam did make him feel like hell, because at the same time he made him feel like heaven. But he knew that would be useless, Liam loved Danielle and Liam would hate him more than he did now if he told Liam the cause of his misery. So he didn’t move, remained rooted to the spot, the weight of events hitting him right in the chest as he realized how he had fucked things over. Probably forever.

Before he knew, he was walking out, of the room, of the hotel, into the driveway. And now, he finds himself here, an ache in his chest, a weight on his head, as he drives way past speed limit, on an endless road, which leads to god knows where, in Harry’s rented car. There is blood rushing in his ears and tears streaming down his face, incessant pounding in his head. Liam’s words ring all around him, the events playing in his muddled mind as he tries to see where he is going. His vision blurred because of the tears, hands gripping the steering wheel with a trembling force, knuckles white as he tries to drive into vacuum from where he can never return.     
  
God has a knack of taking things away from him; his parents, his grandfather, Liam. And forget God, maybe it’s Zayn’s fault, maybe it’s all his fault; he didn’t want his parents to separate, he didn’t stop himself from falling for Liam. Knowing very well he was straight, knowing very well that he could hurt Liam in the process. He didn’t stop himself; he just jumped in the pit. Liam didn’t deserve whatever he said to him because Liam isn’t stupid, he is.  
  
A hundred  thoughts race through his mind; of Harry, Louis, Niall, Liam. How much pain he had caused them all, how much pain he had caused himself. He turns the car around abruptly when he reaches a sudden corner, doesn’t even care how fast he’s going; if he gets pulled over, he’s definitely going to jail, he’s definitely going to ruin their band’s reputation. He doesn’t care. All he knows is that he needs his anger, humiliation, the inflammatory feeling of being unwanted and dumb and always miserable to fade away. He doesn’t know where he is going, maybe in the search of peace, or to find a way of calming his inner demons. Maybe to occupy his mind with something, to keep it from wandering off to his best friends, who probably hated him by now because of his selfishness. And towards Liam, who stole his heart and doesn’t even know.  
  
A static image of that stupid, adorable face flashes before Zayn’s eyes. His hair brown, his eyes filled with tears, his lips trembling and a pang of pain in Zayn’s chest shakes his entire body. He can’t believe he loves Liam so much and he can’t believe he’ll never be able to touch Liam the way he wants, kiss Liam the way he wants, have Liam the way he wants.

It happens quickly, without a warning; a lit up bus dashes in front of the car like a bolt from the blue. His tears blind him, he doesn’t get enough time to swerve his car out of the way and a then there’s a loud slam, kills his ear drums, makes him scream. A name, a single name, a call for help. Shards of glasses flying everywhere, a heavy weight on his left leg, his body jerks and he’s out of his seat. His head hitting something hard, someone in the distant screaming like the world is ending, and he just wants them to stop because there’s pain everywhere. There’s wetness on his forehead, adding to the one pooling in his eyes, there’s a loud bang of something exploding nearby, a hand twisting around his wrist, pain shooting up his arm like a jolt of electricity and then. He’s gone.

—-

Drifting weightless, he feels cold and numb. He’s breathing, he knows he is, but it’s different. It’s somehow easier. His heart is beating inside his chest, he knows because the soft thudding is all he can feel.        
  
The pain in his leg is gone; the weight on his chest is nonexistent. He is flying, soaring, there’s nothing beneath him. Maybe it’s not him who is flying, maybe it’s his soul. Maybe he’s dead, maybe his body is somewhere in a hospital, morgue, rotting. Maybe this is what happens after you die; your soul drifts aimless in black nothingness. But he can think again, and he also has a heart. So maybe this is just another game. Maybe God is just playing with him again because if he had died, that would just have been boring.     
  
His thoughts are stopped short by a blinding light all around him, white blankness, piercing brightness that hurts his eyes and he squints, rubbing them. He has hands. He’s definitely not just a soul, unless souls have hands? He hates the white. He has always hated white. Because white reminds him of peace, peace reminds him of tranquility and tranquility is what his life has always lacked. But his grandfather always wore white too, because he said white signified purity. And purity could mean heaven. So maybe he’s in heaven, maybe he is finally going to be at peace now. Maybe he actually does meet his grandfather, he can talk to him about Liam if he does. Finally, someone he can talk to about Liam.   
  
And then when his eyes accept the white emptiness around him, the setting starts to change. He widens his eyes as white slowly drowns into pink. Light pink, like Safaa’s cheeks. He takes the setting in; he is in some restricted space, with a dark pink, rectangular, board-like surface stretched in front of him, standing in the pink nothingness. There’s a lever on it. It’s a door. Without thinking twice, he reaches for the lever, turns it and pushes the door open.   
  
Entering, he notices how his feet come in contact with something entirely smooth. So he glances down and it’s like he is walking on a ground made of pink cotton candy. He is bare foot, he realizes, but he’s wearing the same leather jacket he had apparently died in. Jeans splattered with what looks like blood, torn at places. His clothes look hideous, a striking contrast to his clean, pink surroundings. A complete mismatch, like he doesn’t belong here. He suddenly wants to turn around and go back but his feet refuse him. It’s like they are on auto, taking him forward without his permission. Not halting until he looks up and among the pink mist, he spots a silhouette of someone standing, in a very familiar manner.         
  
As he slowly moves ahead, suddenly being able to control his limbs again, the figure becoming clearer; dressed in very light pink robes, submerging effortlessly into the background, hair styled perfectly, skin glowing with an ethereal radiance. Eventually, his eyes wander off to meet shining blue ones which seem to be smiling at him with a hint of mischief and infantilism in them. _So_ familiar.  _So_ Louis.     
  
“Lou?” Zayn breathes out, a joyous feeling in his chest.      
  
“Zayn, my brother,” Louis says.       
  
That voice is all the proof Zayn needs to know that yes, it is Louis. So he walks towards him, just to confirm that his senses aren’t playing tricks on him. Because did Louis die too, how did that happen? Or is Louis an angel now- no that’s just impossible.     

When he reaches his best friend, he just stands there for a second looking at him. He is Louis, but also not. There are no freckles on his face, and his blue eyes are bluer than he has ever seen them before. Yet, that smirk is so Louis, the way he’s standing defines Louis.

 “You are real?” he asks, “You are really here?”        

“Well, yes and no. It’s complicated.”       

“What is that supposed to mean? You’re not Louis?”

“How about you walk with me and I explain?” Louis offers.        

Zayn nods, beginning to walk beside Louis towards god knows where, surrounded by pink air.

“I won’t actually say that I _am_ Louis, but I also won’t say that I am _not_ Louis,” Louis (or the not-Louis) begins, “All I would say is that I am an illusion of him. That I am Louis but I am not Louis. Just a fragment of your imagination, creation of your memory. Like I am still him, but not _really_ him. Do you understand?”    
  
Zayn shakes his head, “Do you even understand what you just said?”

Louis sighs, “Not a word.”

“So you are Louis, but you are not Louis?”

“Yes, true.”

“Is this a joke?” he stops in his tracks.

“No, no,” Louis says, stopping as well, turning to face him, “Okay, let’s put it this way. Since, you’re so dumb. I am an angel who is here to help you choose the right path. Only that I look like Louis. _Your_ Louis. And also am exactly Louis in manner, because he is the person your heart wants to see right now. Now does that make sense?”          
  
“I really don’t know, but it was better than your previous explanation,” Zayn says.            
  
“Great,” says Louis, “C’mon keep moving then, we don’t have time.”

“Time for what?” he asks, starting to walk again.

“You’ll know soon,” Louis answers, “Be patient, bro.”

“Okay, can you tell me where are we? Is this heaven?”

“Do you seriously think you’d be allowed in heaven _this_ easily? Don’t kid yourself.”

Zayn laughs, “Yeah, but then neither would you.”

“True,” Louis chuckles back at him, a laugh so familiar, so _homelike_ , Zayn actually wants to hug him, “Anyway, I should tell you that as you move on from here, you’ll meet other people too. Starting from the one you want to see the least to the one you want to talk to the most. Well, I am the one you wanted to meet the least and I’ll just pretend not to be hurt by that.”

“But maybe God knew how you’d be the one I’d want to see the most after dying?” Zayn says.             

“You are not dead, bro. Not on my watch,” Louis says, frowning at him.         
  
“Then what is even happening?” he asks, confused again.    
  
“You’ll find out, right now, just take a seat.”     
  
With a sway of his hands, Louis conjures two chairs out of thin air; dark pink, fitting into the setting effortlessly. Louis sits on one, signaling him to take the other which he does

“I want to show you something,” Louis says, “Watch carefully.”   
  
Before he can question, Louis claps his hand in a way which would have been extremely hilarious if Zayn’s jaw hadn’t just dropped at the images forming right in front of him, among clouds of pink, like on a screen in a cinema only that there is no screen. The images are forming, moving, among the pink mist.    
  
_He throws open the door, furious now because if Louis is playing a prank on him, it isn’t funny at all. He has been trying to find Louis since the past hour, but Louis is nowhere to be found._

_“Louis? Are you in here?” Zayn asks, voice echoing into the empty black room, no reply from Louis. Cursing under his breath he is just about to turn back and search somewhere else when he hears someone sniff. For a moment he thinks he’s imagining it, but there it is again._

_“Excuse me, is somebody in here?” he asks, to get no reply._

_He walks in then, switching on the lights. His eyes don’t fall on him at the exact moment; it takes him a minute to scan the room until he finds two feet peeking out from behind the couch. Wearing red shoes, no socks. He knows who it is. He walks over to the person and sure enough, there’s Louis sitting with his back towards the back of the couch, eyes rimmed red. As if he’d been crying._  
  
_Zayn sits in front of him, heart almost breaking at the hopeless look on his face, “Louis, are you alright? What’s happened? What’s wrong?”_

_Louis shakes his head at him, “Nothing, just missing home.”_

_“Louis, why would you hide and cry if you were missing home? I know something else is wrong, you’re going to lie to me now, really?” he tries._  
  
_“I can’t do this anymore, Zayn. I am done,” Louis says, voice hoarse, “I can’t pretend anymore.”_  
  
“ _What?” he is shocked and concerned, because he doesn’t know what Louis means and he’s also scared now, for Louis hasn’t ever looked this helpless. Louis never gives up._

_“You wouldn’t understand Zayn, none of you w0uld. Just leave me alone,” Louis says._

_“No, I am not going until you tell me what’s wrong,” Zayn gets up to plop down right beside Louis._

_After a few minutes of silence, Louis says, “I don’t love Eleanor. All this time I’ve been dating her, it’s only out of fear. Because I love someone else.”_

_“That’s why you’re crying?” Zayn says after a moment, “That’s nothing to cry about Lou, you can talk to Eleanor about this, she’s a good friend of yours, she’ll understand. Also, it’s better if you tell her sooner, because the more you hide it from her, the more you’ll end up hurting her.”_

_“What if the person I like doesn’t feel the same way? What if I end up losing them and also hurting Eleanor in the process for no reason?”_

_“So then what? You’re going to continue lying to her? Listen to me, Lou,” he puts an arm around Louis, “She’ll hate you if you keep lying to her, and she probably might even think you’re using her. Do you want that? I know you care about her, you don’t want to hurt her like that.”_

_“I don’t, she’s my friend obviously I don’t.”_

_“Then tell her, and as for the person you’re in love with, tell them too. What is the worst that can happen? They’ll not like you back? Well, then you can tell them to fuck off and come back here, I’ll be waiting for you with FIFA and beer to help you get over them.”_

_At that Louis chuckles, looking up at Zayn with eyes full of gratitude and drying tears._  
  
The picture disappears and Zayn instantly turns back to the angel-Louis, his eyes wet, mind full of questions.  
  
“Remember that day?” Louis asks, staring intently back at him.            
  
Zayn nods, “That was the first and only time I saw you cry like that.”   
  
“You want to know what happened exactly two days after that?”  
  
Zayn nods, “Tell me.”    
  
“I asked them out, the person who I was in love with, I went over to them and I confessed. It took me a lot of courage but because you gave me that courage, I did it. And they said yes, they said they felt the same way,” Louis ends with a smile.

“Really?”

“Yes, I also told Eleanor and she said she already knew. In fact, she actually agreed to cover up for us because we weren’t ready to tell anyone yet. I wasn’t ready to tell you guys who I am in love with, so she said she’ll help me pretend I liked her,” Louis explains, “Everything worked out for me Zayn, and it wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t talked to me that day. I wouldn’t have gotten the one I wanted.”

“Can I ask who ‘the one’ is?”

“I would tell you, but I have a feeling they’d want to do it themselves,” Louis chuckles, “Anyway, it’s time for you to leave. Just remember, while you go ahead, that if you weren’t in my life, it would be lacking a lot of happiness. I wouldn’t have had the younger brother I wanted, and I wouldn’t have the person who can cheer me up when I am done trying to make everyone else laugh. You are one of the most important people in my life, and I can’t imagine losing you.”      
  
“Why are you telling me this?” he asks, a lump in his throat.       
  
“You’ll know in the near future,” Louis smiles at him, “Get up now, time to leave.”

The moment Louis stops talking, as if on cue, a door appears behind him, similar to the one before, this time a light shade of yellow.     
  
“Go on then,” Louis tilts his head towards the door and Zayn nods before he walks towards it, turns the lever and steps inside. Looking back one last time, to see Louis vanish with the pink, the door vanishing with him as yellow surrounds him. Yellow clouds beneath his feet, yellow mist around him, the same setting as the previous one. Walking forward, he looks all around him for any sign of life. Until, just like before his eyes fall on a figure, standing in the near distance, upright and tall.

Zayn can recognize him already and he isn’t whom Zayn had expected him to be. But just like Louis, he has this certain glow about him which makes him look more like a wax statue than human. Skin spotless and shiny, curls outlining the face in an elegant way, looking way younger than he normally does.     
  
“Look who’s here, after completely wrecking my car,” Harry says as soon as Zayn reaches him, a cheeky smile on his face.

“It was rented, you nutjob,” Zayn says, bumping his fist with the one Harry is holding out, “I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon, after what Louis said about the least and most thing. I thought it’d be Niall after Louis.”

Harry laughs and it is uplifting, “Well, I knew you have always secretly loved me more than Niall.”    
  
“Feel flattered,” Zayn says.     
  
“You shouldn’t have been surprised to see me though,” Harry says, “By now, you should have figured out that I’ll always be the one who’ll be found next to Louis.”   
  
It takes a moment for Zayn to get a hint and he gasps, “You and Louis? You and Louis? You’re the one Louis was talking about?”

“Yes,” Harry smiles brightly at him.         
  
Harry chuckles, “You aren’t as smart as you make yourself out to be, you know that? Or maybe you were just too invested in Liam to ever pay attention to what Louis and I were up to.”

“You- know that? About me and Liam, you know?” Zayn asks, saving the rest of his questions for later.

“I know it, because I know you like that. I know what you’re feeling, also the way you look at Liam, the way you wince whenever his girlfriends are mentioned, I have noticed,” Harry says, “Don’t know about the others.”

“You were always the most observant,” Zayn smiles, “But I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about you and Louis! Forget that, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you weren’t straight!”                     

“You didn’t either,” Harry counters.       

“Because I was afraid,” he confesses.      

“Of what?”   

“Not being accepted, losing you guys. I have never told anyone ever about my sexuality, literally nobody knows,” Zayn says, “I didn’t know where to start, I didn’t know what to expect.”

“Well, same was with me and Louis. We didn’t know what you guys would say. But we did talk about it and had finally decided to tell you guys, we were just waiting for Lou’s birthday. And for you to start talking to us again.”     
  
“Oh,” he says, feeling guilty, “I am sorry for treating you guys like that, I am shit.”

“No. You aren’t, you just don’t think they are actual people in your life who don’t want to lose you,” Harry smiles at him, his green eyes sparkling.  

He feels bile rising in his throat because the guilt is overwhelming, he can’t believe he treated Harry like he did, so he ignores Harry’s remark and asks, “So are you going to show me some video thing as well?”

“As a matter of fact I do, yes,” he says, and he claps his hands without conjuring any seats out of thin air.    As expected, images form in front of them, playing like a video for Zayn to see.            
  
_They are walking on a road, more stumbling into each other than walking actually, as they giggle into each other’s neck, like children. They’re only eighteen, Zayn is in a red flannel, and Harry has a beanie covering his head. They are clearly drunk._

_Losing his balance, Harry falls, ass flat on the road, his giggles not ending, just wincing at how hard the road hits his bottom. Zayn stands above him, trying to get him to get up by pulling his hand, chuckling at how he is miserably failing._

_“Get up Harreh,” he says, “We have to go before Paul finds out we’re missing!”_

_“I can’t feel my legs, or my head,” Harry says, giggling uncontrollably, as he pulls at Zayn’s hand, causing him to fall down beside him._

_“Ow,” Zayn groans, his bottom hitting the hard road and Harry just chuckles beside him, “Don’t laugh!”_

_“You are very funny,” Harry keep laughing at him._

_“You are funny too,” he says, Harry’s laughter contagious, making him chuckle as well._

_“We are both so funny!” Harry exclaims, looking at him with wide eyes, “So so so funny! Ah!”_

_And then Harry just leans back, until the back of his head hits the road, and he’s lying in the middle of nowhere. Zayn lying down beside him, as they stare at the stars, too drunk to process where they are or how to get home._

_“You see the stars? Do you want to know what I think they actually are?” Harry asks when his giggles have subsided._

_“Sure,” he replies, expecting one of Harry’s foolish stories that make no sense but make him laugh all the same._

_“I think they’re openings in heaven from where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know that they are happy to see what we’ve become,” Harry says. That stops Zayn’s chortling and he looks at Harry’s finger pointing at the sky._

_“That could be true,” Zayn says, shifting his eyes to the spread of stars above them._

_“And maybe, Z, your grandfather is sending his love too, because he can’t believe what you’ve achieved in just two years.”_

_Zayn turns to look at him, “Your grandparents must be pretty happy too, you’ve achieved everything beside me. I couldn’t have done it without you and the boys.”_

_“And I couldn’t have done it without you and the boys either,” Harry smiles at him, before looking back up, “Paul is going to be so angry at us if he finds out what we are doing right now.”_

_“Paul is always angry, I love getting on his nerves,” Zayn giggles._

_“When he makes that face where it seems like he’s just about to explode,” Harry adds, already laughing._

_They chuckle together, lying on a grey road, under a vast sky, stars shining down on them, illuminating their young faces with their soft white light.”_

The images vanish into yellow, and Zayn turns to look at Harry who’s smiling at him, “If you don’t remember that night, I’ll understand, we were drunk off our wits.”

“No no, I do remember,” he says, “To this day, whenever I have looked at the stars, I have smiled because it reminded me of what you said.”

“I have smiled too, because it reminded me of that night and many others when you listened to me saying dumb things without questioning anything, without making fun of me,” Harry says, “You’ve always listened to me Zayn, to my every word and nobody has ever paid me that kind of attention. For all it’s worth, I think you need to know, that you’re one of the best people in my life and if I lost you, I don’t know how that might affect me. I can’t afford to lose a friend like you, I can’t even think about it.”

Harry’s eyes glisten with emotions and Zayn’s heart swells magnificently, “I thought you’d hate me after how I treated you.”

“You’re my best friend, I am furious at you, yes. But hate is a huge word I would never in my life associate with you,” Harry says.

While Harry is speaking, another door appears right in front of them. It’s green, a bit darker than the shade of grass.      

“Anyway, it’s time for you to go, just remember what I’ve said,” Harry tells him, and Zayn nods as he waves at Harry, before walking through the door into a green setting. 

Predictably, Niall stands amongst the green fog, waiting for him, hands tied behind his back. His blonde hair clashing magnificently with his light green silk robes, eyes shimmering blue, a hint of carefree joy in them. A seat is already waiting for him this time and Niall sits when he does.

“So I’ve heard you thought that you had lost us and that we hated you?” Niall asks.        
  
Zayn is taken aback by the sudden question but grins back at Niall anyway, he’s happy to see him, “I did yeah, for a minute or two.”        
  
“I want to kick you right in the gut right now, but I don’t think I am allowed to,” Niall says, “All this time calling me your little bro and then just going off alone, you’re a right wanker you know that?”       

“I have been made aware, yes,” he replies.       

“So I suppose you already know I’ll show you something as well? But I also give you a choice, either you see it or you can just listen to me tell you how much of a dumbass you are,” Niall says.

“I’ll rather see what you have to show me,” he says.

“Alright then, I would’ve preferred the latter though,” Niall says, clapping his hands, causing the images to appear.

 _“Can I talk to you for a second?” Zayn asks Niall after an interview, during which the blonde lad had bitten his nails like there was no tomorrow, a nervous expression on his face at all moments._  
  
_Naill nods and follows Zayn into the next room. Zayn closes the door behind them and turns to Niall, arms folded over his chest, “So what’s going on with you?”_  
  
_“What? Nothing,” Niall replies, as his hands fiddle anxiously with the hem of his shirt._  
  
_“Look Niall, I know I’ve known you for just a year but I can still tell when something’s wrong with you, so talk to me,” Zayn urges._  
  
_“Do I deserve to be here?” Niall asks._  
  
“Huh, what do you mean?”    

_“Do I deserve to be in this band with you lads?”_

_“Obviously you do, why are you asking this?”_

_“Because I feel like I don’t belong, like I’m not good enough,” Niall says in a small voice._

_“Oh god, Niall why would you think that?”_

_“The fans have been saying stuff. Stuff like you know, I am living off the talent of you guys. That my voice sucks, I don’t deserve to be a part of this band.”_  
  
Instead of reprimanding him, Zayn chuckles, “You want to know what people say about me? That I sleep around, I am a terrorist, I have no respect for girls, I am a cheater.”

_“How can you be a cheater if you don’t have a girlfriend?” Niall asks._

_“Exactly, how can I be a cheater if I’m neither dating nor sleeping with someone?” Zayn says, “And that’s how you don’t have to believe anything anybody says because it’s all rubbish. We know that we need you, and we know how much you mean to this band. What other people say about you doesn’t even have to matter bro. We wouldn’t have accomplished all this without you Niall, there’s a reason you’re in a band with us. You deserve it as much as any of us.”_

_“Do you really mean that?” Niall asks._

_“Why would I lie to you?” he says, “If you really don’t believe me, you can ask Louis, Harry or Liam. Trust me, they’ll tell you the exact same thing.”_

_“I don’t have to ask them,” Niall says, “I’d be so embarrassed even telling them this, I am actually glad it was you who I told.”_

_“You can tell me anything, I’ll always be here for you.”_

_“You promise?” Niall asks, smiling._

_“I do, yeah,” Zayn replies._

Images fade into greenness, and Niall starts speaking before Zayn can say anything, “If you hadn’t gave me that talk that day, I would have taken a flight home, made an excuse about myself being unwell and tried to stay away from you guys as much as I could. I know me believing those people on the internet was stupid but at that time, I took everything seriously. I had actually believed I was pathetic and I couldn’t sing, I didn’t deserve to be with you guys. Until you changed my mind.”

There is a pause where Zayn just stares at Niall and Niall just smiles back at him, benignly, before he speaks again, “When you told me all those things. I just got this sudden strength and sense of belief in myself because the person I looked up to was telling me I had what it takes. You kept me from running home and hiding myself, you gave me the strength Zayn. You literally saved me.”

“Shut up,” Zayn murmurs, wiping a tear off with his torn jacket sleeve, “I did no such thing. You’re exaggerating.”   
  
“I knew you’d say that,” Niall laughs, “But it’s true. You were there as a big brother when I needed you and I always will. We all always will, we’d be nothing without you. You are important to us, no matter what you think.”

“Stop Niall,” he says, embarrassed because he isn’t used to Niall praising him.

“Yeah, yeah, I am stopping,” Niall says, getting up, “We are running out of time anyway.”

Zayn gets up too, just as a door appears in front of them again, dark blue, like an ocean. Zayn doesn’t even have to guess who he’s going to find behind that door and suddenly his heart is at his throat when he turns the lever, and pushes it open, walking inside, into blue oblivion.

It’s so serene, so calming, the light blue stretching around him. The tranquility of it all; that makes his heart race and slow down at the same time only means one person. And he’s right, for when he looks around, he sees Liam, perched on a bench, staring back at him, a small, gentle smile on his face that Zayn can see from miles away.

He walks to Liam, weightless, on air, his heart doing weird things inside his chest when he reaches him. Liam’s hair is in thick curly locks, like they used to be, decorating his face that seems to glow. No lines on his face, just the remnants of crinkles beside his eyes. The white robes he is clad in, a perfect contrast with the light blue that surrounds him and Zayn feels inferior when he sits beside him, in his torn, bloody clothes.        
  
Then Liam questions him, looking straight into his eyes, the smile sad, “Is there anything you want to tell me?”    
  
“I am sorry for saying those things to you,” he says, “And for treating you like you meant nothing. I never really meant it.”

“I don’t care about that,” Liam says, “Besides that, is there anything else?” 

“No, I guess not.”           
  
“Why can’t you just say it? Why couldn’t you have just told me?”       

“I don’t what you’re talking about.”        

“Really? Really Zayn? That kiss, that night when you were drunk, and we kissed, that really meant nothing to you?” Liam asks, eyes narrowed. 

After a second or two, Zayn says, “It meant a lot of things to me Liam, but I can’t tell you that.”

“And why not?” Liam asks.

“Because unlike me, you are straight,” Zayn replies, as if that explains everything, that _should_ explain everything.      
  
“Straight boys don’t really respond when their male best friends kiss them on the lips,” Liam says.

“I- I don’t understand,” Zayn says, frowning at Liam, not really knowing how to form words because Liam is intimidating and he wonders if Liam always was.

“Just watch,” Liam turns away from him; claps his hand and the mist starts to swirl and twirl around effortlessly. The images appearing before them.         
  
_They are tangled up in Zayn’s bed and Zayn’s singing some song, words slurring and all jumbled up. Liam lies beside him, his arm under Zayn’s head and he laughs, eyes the shape of adorable crescents, at Zayn’s stupid songs that make no sense whatsoever and contain a lot of incoherent swear words._

_“I want to tell you something Liam,” he says, dragging the ‘i’ in Liam’s name, turning to face him._

_“What do you want to tell me?” Liam asks, looking at him, their noses touch but Liam doesn’t move back because it’s not uncomfortable._

_“Come closer, it’s a secret, other people can’t know,” he whispers, eyes round._

_Liam leans into him, and then Zayn whispers something into his ear. Liam’s expression turns serious as he pulls back, and looks at Zayn’s face, eyes wide in astonishment, “Really?”_

_Zayn nods like a little child, in eagerness or excitement he doesn’t know._

_“Okay, I guess,” Liam says, smiling down at him, nervousness on his face._

_And then he’s leaning in, Zayn meeting him halfway, as their lips collide, press against each other, hard. Zayn cups Liam’s face, breathes in Liam’s every exhale, Liam licking his lips until he opens his mouth, allowing Liam to push his tongue inside. Moments pass like that, and he kisses Liam with all he has, Liam fervently kissing him back._

_In a swift motion, Liam is completely on top of him, lips travelling from his mouth to his neck, Zayn’s fingers tangled in Liam’s curly hair. He drops kisses everywhere he can while Zayn throws his head back, eyes scrunched close, feeling Liam cover him up so naturally. Liam licks the curve of his neck, notices Zayn’s breath hitch, before he’s sucking there, his lips making slick noises against Zayn’s skin. Zayn is ablaze, every inch of his body on fire, that Liam has ignited. He’s grabbing Liam’s face again, bringing it up from his neck. Stares into Liam’s eyes for a good few moments before he presses his lips against Liam’s again._

_Liam’s hands are unbuttoning his shirt, warm skin meeting his sweat slicked body and he relishes in every touch. Until Liam bites on his bottom lip hard, and it hits him, what he’s doing. What he’s about to do. And then in another painful instance, Zayn pulls back, pushing Liam off him, his drunken mind cursing uncontrollably. There is a horrified expression on his face as he shakes his head hurriedly, apologizing._

_“I am sorry Liam, I am so sorry,” he says, eyes wide and humiliated, as he looks at Liam, sitting up, “What am I doing, I am not supposed to do this. This is not how- Oh my god, I am- I wasn’t thinking, I am so sorry Liam. What was I doing?”_

_Liam looks at him with a surprised expression, a hint of pain in his eyes as he tries to understand what Zayn means. Zayn doesn’t think he does because at this moment, even he doesn’t know what’s happening. What has he done, he was just about to ruin his friendship with Liam and Liam has a fucking girlfriend._

_“I am sorry Liam, I am such a selfish person, I shouldn’t have done that, I shouldn’t have kissed you- I-”_

_“It’s okay, Zayn,” Liam straightens up and he reaches to hold Zayn again because he doesn’t know how long he can take Zayn’s pained expression, “It’s okay baby, it’s nothing serious, it was nothing. It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t anybody’s fault.”_

_“I am so sorry Liam,” he says again, eyes fearful, actual remorse on face, he’s crossed a line and he’s afraid of the consequences._

_“It’s okay, don’t worry,” Liam hushes him, pulling him close again, letting Zayn bury his face into his neck._

The visuals disappear. Zayn and Liam sit in silence for a couple of seconds. Zayn doesn’t know what to say because what he just saw is new to him, the kiss he shared with Liam used to play differently in his mind. Way different, he can’t even believe what he just saw is real.

“Can you remember what you told me in my ear?" Liam breaks the silence.

“No,” he says when he finds his voice.

“You told me you were gay, and that whenever I am that close to you, you want to kiss me,” Liam says.

Zayn curses in his mind feeling his heart jump to his throat. Because he can’t believe he’d say something like that to Liam, it’s so fucking impossible.

“And then I kissed you and you were very responsive, but then you started apologizing with a look on your face that made me hurt everywhere,” Liam says, “The next day, you forgot about it.”

“I didn’t forget about it, I just- I just remembered it differently,” he blurts, “The way I remembered it, you didn’t want me.”

“You could have talked to me about it at least, I would have shown you how much I wanted you.”

“You had a girlfriend then.”

“I broke up with her.”

“But then you started dating Sophia.”

“After three months Zayn, I gave you three months. Sophia isn’t even- I don’t even like her, and she knows that! She said she’d help me move on, but I can’t move on, it’s pointless.”

“Move on from whom?” he asks.

“Are you serious?” Liam asks him, incredulous expression on his face.

Zayn knows the answer, kind of, he just wants to confirm, so he asks again, “From whom?”

“From you.”

“Oh,” he looks down at his feet, not really understanding how he feels. His entire body is buoyant, and his heart seems to be running at top speed.

“Yes,” Liam says, “ _Oh_ , exactly.”

“So do you- you still like me then? Even after all that I said to you?” he asks.

Liam looks at him like he’s looking at the most ridiculous person ever and shakes his head, “I can’t answer that. Only the Liam you left behind can answer that, it’s not my place.”

A door is forming in front of him again, it’s as black as coal, and Zayn wonders whose behind it because nobody comes to mind.

“It’s time for you to go,” Liam tells him, as he stands and beckons for him to do the same, “I hope you make the right decision when its time.”

“Time for what?” he asks.

“You’ll know, just go,” Liam says.

“Can I not just stay here? I don’t want to see anyone else. Can I not just stay here with you?” he asks.

“I am not really Liam,” Liam smiles sadly at him, “Sooner or later, I’ll disappear into nothingness. It’s better if you proceed.”

“Where will this door take me?” he asks.

“To the person you want to talk to the most,” Liam answers.

“But that’s you,” he says.

“Apparently not,” Liam says, “C’mon now, time is running out.”

He walks to the door, albeit reluctantly, and pushes it open. Looks at Liam one last time, before he enters a world full of grey and black mist. It looks more like smoke, the one he blows out of his mouth after having a cigarette. He kind of likes it; it’s far better than the bright, light colours he had to walk through. He spots the figure easily this time, clad in all black from head to toe. As he moves forward, the boy becomes clearer and Zayn’s mouth falls open in surprise when he reaches him, because _what_.

“Hello,” an exact replica of him stands before him, same hair, styled up, same brown eyes, and his cheekbones as sharp as his own. It’s like he’s staring into a mirror, only that _this_ Zayn, the angel-Zayn is far prettier than he could ever be, no blemishes on his face which is full of colour and he’s wearing a clean black robe compared to Zayn’s messy attire. For the first time, Zayn wonders how his face and hair look at the moment, if they’re as untidy as the rest of him looks.

“You look like me,” he says, as if that would make things more believable.

“Do you have any doubts?” angel-Zayn asks him, lips curving into a smile and Zayn can’t believe how beautiful he is. Like he’s hundred percent this isn’t how he looks in real life, he can’t.

“No I mean, this is ridiculous,” he says.

“What part of your life isn’t?” angel-Zayn asks, and Zayn nods his head because true.

“So will you show me something too?”

“No, I have nothing to show. I mean I know and feel only what you know and feel, so what’s the point of showing you what you already know,” he says, “But if you want to ask me something you can, I will answer all questions that the people you met before me didn’t.”

“Where am I?” he asks, just as angel-Zayn sits on a seat he has conjured right before them.

“On your way to heaven,” angel-Zayn replies like it’s no big deal.

“So I _am_ dead then?” he asks confused, taking a seat beside his angel self.

“Not yet, no,” angel-Zayn says.

“I don’t understand anything,” he confesses.

“Next question?” angel-Zayn ignores his comment.

“Who are you? Are you me?”

“No, like all others I am just a fragment of your memory, but like I am more like your reflection. The little voice inside of you telling you what to do, what not to do.”

“You’re my conscience?”

“Yeah, you can say that.”

“So the person I wanted to talk to the most, is me, myself?”

“Listen, I am as surprised as you are,” angel-Zayn says, “Like I didn’t even know you trust me enough to believe in my judgment. But apparently, you do. Because that is why I am here to help you decide.”

“Decide what?”   

“Okay, I wasn’t supposed to say that so soon, but I guess it’s time anyway. I am here to help you decide whether you want to go back or go forth.”

“What does that mean?”

“Whether you want to die or live.”

“What?”

“Yes, because right now you’re stuck. Between life and death. I don’t know why because everyone doesn’t get a chance like this, but you’re allowed to choose; either to live and turn back towards what you left behind or embrace death and proceed to the doors that lead straight to paradise.”

The moment angel-Zayn finishes his sentence; large silver gates appear behind him. Golden frame, golden handle, Zayn knows where they lead and his hands itch to go there.

“So it’s up to you. You can go back to living your normal life, with your friends and family. You can go back to Louis and Liam and Niall and Harry. Or you can just leave everything behind and move on, move ahead and embrace all the delicacies and wonders that heaven has in store for you. And live in peace and joy, forever.”

He can’t believe his ears. Zayn seriously cannot believe a word this ethereal form of him is saying. After twenty years of pure torture, countless ups and downs, God chose heaven for him. Maybe God doesn’t hate him after all, maybe He does like him. And above that, He is giving him a chance to go choose between life and death. Zayn can’t believe his luck.

And obviously. The path is clear. His life never had been amazing, he knows that Liam likes him, probably loves him. He also knows that his friends love him. But heaven. Heaven is just something else isn’t it? It’s promises of a good life, eternal peace.  Too alluring to let go, and he knows if he turns his back on heaven this time, he might never get a chance to enter it again. And life, he’s done with life. He knows his friends will be sad, but he knows they’ll be okay. They have each other, they’ll manage. And his family, he wishes them well. They’ll mourn too for a month or four, and then they’ll sink back to their everyday lives as well. Liam. He had fought with Liam before coming here, and angel-Liam didn’t tell him if he’d able to fix things with real-Liam. He didn’t answer when Zayn asked if real-Liam would forgive him. So there is no way of knowing if real-Liam actually would. Does he want to find out? Really? Not so much.

The thought of facing Liam and being viewed with disgust is nothing compared to the thought of entering heaven and living peacefully ever after; literally. And isn’t that what everyone wants, isn’t that what everyone’s ultimate goal is? To have a place in heaven? Zayn apparently has one, and he’s going to claim it.

“I’d like to move on,” he states firmly, “I want to go forward, I would like to enter heaven.”

There is a look of pure shock on the angel-Zayn’s face, as he looks at Zayn with wide, disbelieving eyes. But then his original, carefree composure restores and he smiles at Zayn, “As you wish then.”     

The only problem is that he is Zayn’s reflection and Zayn knows himself, better than anyone else. He is quick to notice the trace of reluctance in that voice, the hesitance in angel-Zayn’s movements.

“Is there something wrong?” he asks.

“What? No, nothing,” angel-Zayn shakes his head, getting up on his feet and it looks like he is having an internal battle with himself. There’s still bewilderment on his face, and anxiousness that he fails to hide. He beckons Zayn to move towards the silver gates. But Zayn’s eyes never leave his ashen face.

Nonetheless, he walks towards the gates that await him. Really, why does he even care about how uncomfortable his angel form looks, he is entering heaven; he shouldn’t be concerned about anything. It even sounds good, the thought of it.

Just as he is about to touch the door knob, angel-Zayn interrupts, “Are you sure about this?”             
  
“Is there something you want to say? Please do. Tell me if what I am doing is wrong,” he asks, exasperatedly, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Looking at Zayn with a pained look on his face for a good moment or two, angel-Zayn shakes his head again and says, “I am not allowed to do this. But I have to show you something because you _need_ to know.”

He claps his hand and Zayn turns around instantly, images forming framed by black smoke.

_He punches the wall with newfound strength. Winces when he sees blood paint the walls but he can’t take it anymore. He wants him back, he needs to get him back. He needs him to be alright. Alive and smiling. The doctors said he’s been coming in and out of consciousness and he doesn’t know what that means but he hates it. Hates how he doesn’t know how Zayn is, hates everything. He just wants Zayn to open his eyes and look at him, and touch his face, and laugh._

_Louis comes into the room, puts his arms around him, tries to control the shuddering figure but it’s of no use. He thrashes madly in Louis’s grip while Louis shouts at him to eat something, to stop hurting himself. That it’s not his fault that Zayn’s like this. He screams when Louis speaks Zayn’s names, and he pushes Louis away, tears streaming down his face as he shoves Louis out of the room, slamming the door shut._

_Somebody pounds heavily on the door, shouting for Liam to open the door but Liam doesn’t move. He curls up into himself right on the floor, crying into the clothes he had been wearing when he had fought with Zayn. When he had told Zayn he didn’t care about him. Zayn can’t just leave knowing that. He can’t._

_Louis shouts from outside, “Liam please, listen to me! He’ll wake up Liam, I promise you that! But you need to take care of yourself! Just eat something! It’s been three days you’ve gone without food, you ne-”_

_“I will only open this door, if Zayn wakes up,” he shouts in between heart wrenching sobs, “If he doesn’t. Don’t even bother trying to get me out of here.”_

_Just like that Liam hides into himself, sobs and cries wrecking his body._

Zayn stares wide-eyed, not wanting the image to disappear. His vision has blurred to a great extent, as he turns around to face angel-Zayn in confusion, “What was that- was this real?”

“That is the present, that’s what is happening right now. I wasn’t allowed to show it to you since we only show the past, but I couldn’t let you just leave him like that. Zayn, you can’t just leave him like that,” angel-Zayn pleads.

“Does he think I was in an accident because of him?” he asks.

“Yes, and if you die, he’s going to blame himself for the rest of his life,” angel-Zayn says, “You know how he is; you know he’ll not listen to anyone. He will never forgive himself. Now decide Zayn, what do you want to do?”

“Liam,” he says instantly, he doesn’t even want to think about anything anymore, “I have to go back to Liam.”

Angel-Zayn lights up at that, “Come on then, close your eyes before you change your mind. Quick!”

“What?”

“Just close your eyes, and breathe.”          
  
Zayn does just that and then, in a split second, there’s a heavy pressure on him. He doesn’t feel light or weightless anymore, he feels like someone has put a huge mass of something on him. There’s an ache in his head, a thudding, a pounding, and he feels blood rushing up and down his arms and legs. The surface beneath him is soft and solid; he’s not floating on nothingness anymore.

And he wants to open his eyes, because that’s what Liam wants. He wants to see Liam, but his eyelids feel so heavy, it feels like a physical force is holding them shut and he can’t seem to open them. There’s a very horrid ache in his left leg, right above his knees, as if someone is punching it constantly and he wants to scream because everything is just too much. The image of a broken Liam in his head, the way it feels like his body had literally split into a thousand pieces and someone had stitched them all together.

“Will he wake up?” he hears a small voice suddenly, and he instantly focuses all his attention to that, distracted by the ache all over his body.

“He will,” another voice says, “He definitely will.”

It’s Harry. Zayn can tell because he can recognize that deep, hoarse voice anywhere. He wants to wake up, he wants to tell Harry that he is awake, but he is unable too. He feels paralyzed.

“When?” the first voice asks, it sounds like Niall.

“I don’t know,” Harry answers, “But soon, you’ll see.”

“But the doctors told Louis, they aren’t expecting him to wake up,” Niall says, “He might go into a coma; he hasn’t opened his eyes since a week.”

“The doctors know nothing,” Harry snaps at him, “They aren’t god.”

“I am sorry,” Niall says in a tiny voice, “I just want to know something for sure. So that we can tell Liam that and get him out of that room. It’s like I am losing two of my friends and I can’t handle that.”

“C’mere Niall,” Harry says, his voice choked up and Zayn feels a lump in his throat when he hears sobs, “Don’t cry, if Zayn is hearing us, he’d be sad to see us like this.”

“If he’s hearing us, then he should know that he has to wake up, no matter what,” Niall says in a broken voice.

And Zayn agrees. He has to wake up no matter what because it breaks his heart; the amount of grief and sorrow in his best friends’ voices. So he tries his best to do the only thing he can; he focuses on moving a body part, any body part. A part that doesn’t hurt like his godforsaken leg. He moves his fingers, left hand, he clenches it into a fist.

“Haz, Haz! Zayn’s moving!” Niall screams so loud, his head throbs.

“Oh my god,” Harry’s voice follows, “Zayn, Zayn can you hear me?”

A large hand touches his hand, he opens his fist and Harry slides his fingers through the spaces between his. He clasps his fingers around Harry’s hand and squeezes. _Yes, I can hear you._

“Niall call Louis, call Liam, call the doctors, he’s coming back!” Harry says, squeezing his hand back just as tightly, touching his face with the other, “Zayn, please open your eyes, Liam’s been waiting for days.”

He tries, he swears he tries, but his eyes refuse him. He tries moving a leg instead, just to check if he can. He can. Then his ears are being shattered again, too many noises around him; footsteps, masculine voices, unfamiliar hands on his body, a deafening beep going off in the distance. He doesn’t let go off Harry’s hand though, nor does Harry loosen his grip even by a fraction.

“According to what I’m seeing here, he is fully conscious, I don’t understand why he isn’t able to open his eyes,” a lady says above his head, and he needs her to shut up because she’s so loud, “All we can do is wait, if he wants to take his time. There’s nothing I can do.”

“I’ll be right here with him,” Harry says, just stating a fact that nobody asked for.

There are footsteps again, Zayn doesn’t like the sound. Harry keeps squeezing his hand, he keeps responding to the touch, not wanting to let go and drift away again. Muffled noises enter the room again and then there’s a voice a much louder one, “I swear to god Niall, if you’re fucking with me, I am going to fucking kill you.”

It’s Liam. Aggressive tone, hoarse, choked up voice that reverberates against his eardrums.                     

“He’s moving Liam, look, he’s alive,” he hears Harry says, feels his hand being lifted up and Harry tightens his grip, he presses back, “Zayn open your fingers.”

He does, and the sigh Liam lets out is so loud, he hears every decibel.

Harry lets go off his hand just as another wraps around it; it’s not as soft as Harry’s, its rough in texture, bigger in size, the fingers that slide in between Zayn’s thicker. He knows every detail of this hand, he knows its Liam. He clenches his fingers, holds Liam’s hand tightly and Liam sniffs above him.

“Zayn, baby can you hear me?” a voice asks, so broken, cracked in so many places.

He wants to nod his head but he can’t, for the first time he realizes he’s got something around his neck. A neck brace, his mind decides. So he just squeezes Liam’s hand a bit more, just to convey that he can hear.

“Oh god,” Liam breathes out, and there are kisses being placed on his hand, we kisses, Liam’s lips on his skin, “Oh my god, Zayn.”

Before there is a gentle, wet kiss being planted on his cheekbone, Liam sniffing as he presses his lips against his face and he feels so light again, like he’s fine, he’s okay. And he puts all his strength in trying to open his eyes, Liam’s soft sobs in his ears. He can see the dim light from between his eyelashes, and then his eyes flutter open, and Liam’s tear stained, breathtaking face is the first thing he sees. He’s so beautiful; despite his messy hair, and his unshaved scruff, he’s so beautiful.

His friends crowding behind Liam, in a room which sure as hell isn’t a hospital room. He recognizes the wallpaper; light blue with white patterns on it – he’s in Liam’s room. Lying over pillows and cushions, his right leg and arm plastered heavily, transparent drips connecting his body to blood bags that hang on a stand beside him.

“Welcome back,” Louis grins at him from above Liam’s head, Liam who is seated beside him on the bed, not leaving his hand, his eyes scanning Zayn’s face, as if it’s the first time he’s seen it.

“You scared the shit outta me, mate,” Niall says, from above Liam’s left shoulder, “You’ve been out for a whole pathetic week.”

“Can you see properly?” Harry asks; chin resting on Liam’s right shoulder, “How many fingers are these?”

He holds up two fingers and Louis smacks his hand down, Zayn grins at them, as Louis says, “I am glad you’re back, Liam was starting a shit storm back there with his tantrums. I never thought I’d see a time when I’d have to handle Liam.”

Liam shakes his head at Zayn, whispers, “He’s lying. Don’t listen to him.”

Zayn squeezes his hand, looks directly into his eyes, Liam’s eyes never leaving his face, not even for a millisecond. Harry says something in Louis’ ear in the background, and Louis nods.

“We’ll be outside okay,” Louis says, “Looks like you two need a minute. C’mon Horan, it’s time I told you a secret about me and Harry!”

Then he’s flashing a smile at Zayn, and accompanying Harry and Niall out. Before they shut the door behind them, Zayn hears Niall say, “If it’s about how you two are gay for each other, I already know.”

Silence stretches for a minute or two, during which Liam just looks at him, biting his bottom lip, drawing circles into Zayn’s palm. Then he finally says, raspy, low voice, “You came back.”

“For you,” Zayn speaks, his voice dry, throat aching a bit when he speaks but he doesn’t care.

Liam smiles, “I’ve missed you.”

“I know.”

“And I am sorry for all that I said to you. I didn’t mean it, I was only angry.”

“I know that too, because I didn’t mean it either. Whatever I said, it was shit, I didn’t mean it.”

“Good, I am glad you’re okay. I was afraid I’d never see your eyes again, or hear your voice again,” Liam says, eyes moist.

“Liam, there’s something I have to tell you,” he says, pulling Liam’s hand so that Liam shifts closer.

“What is it?” Liam asks, curiously.

Zayn just looks at him for a moment, realizing how this shabby, tearstained, messy faced boy is far more beautiful than the Liam he had met in heaven (or wherever he was a few minutes ago – if that was even real, or if he was just imagining it).

Then he says, “That one time when we kissed when I was drunk (Liam tenses up visibly), and I told you something in your ear. And then I kissed you and then I pushed you away. I apologized, and made you think I forgot all about it. I didn’t Liam, I never did. I thought about it every single day, I just didn’t know how to talk to you about it and that was my biggest mistake.”

Liam nods, there are tears in his eyes, Zayn continues to speak, a constant ache in his throat, “What I said to you, in your ear, I meant it. Whenever you’re near me, all I want to do is kiss you, and hug you and touch you. And I have wanted it for a long time, before either of your girlfriends came into the picture.”

“They weren’t- I wasn’t- I didn’t love them, I broke up with Sophia too,” Liam tells him, “Actually she left herself when I refused to leave your side a few days back.”

“I am glad she did, because now I want you all too myself. And I want to love you like I’ve always wanted, and I never want to leave your side ever,” Zayn says, squeezing Liam’s fingers and Liam returns the pressure, “I never thought I’d ever be able to say this to you Liam, but I can’t hide anymore. I love you. I’ve loved you since I can’t even remember”

“The moment I kissed you,” Liam says, “Was when I knew. I knew it was you who I wanted; I knew that I had wanted to kiss you since a long time. The moment I kissed you, it changed everything for me.”

“I want to touch your face but I can’t lift my hand,” he whispers, “Lie next to me Liam, take me in your arms.”

Liam nods, letting go off Zayn’s hand and making room for himself beside Zayn. He lies down beside him, facing him, helps Zayn lift his head a little so that he can rest it on the arm Liam slides under it. He uses his other hand to bring Zayn’s hand to his face, drops a kiss on the dorsal and then holds it close over his heart.

“You suck, you know,” Liam tells him, noses close and breath mixing, “For driving off like that, for getting into this accident and scaring me to death.”

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to do that either,” Zayn whispers.

Liam shifts closer, pressing his forehead to Zayn, closing his eyes, “If you hadn’t woken up Zayn, I swear to god I wouldn’t have survived it.” He opens his eyes, wet and sincere, “I can’t imagine living in a world without you.”

He can feel tears sting his eyes, as he tries to smile, “Then maybe you should know, that the reason I am alive right now is you. Only you.”

Liam’s eyes crinkle, as his lips turn into a soft smile, “If I kiss you right now, will you-”

“I won’t mind.”

“Okay, good,” Liam says, before he kills the distance between their lips and kisses Zayn. Zayn lets him press hard, even when his jaw aches, he doesn’t really care. He just kisses Liam back; he has missed the feel of his lips so much. Liam deepens the kiss, licking into the bittersweet taste of Zayn’s mouth, which was so dry a few minutes ago. When Liam pulls back, he rests his forehead against Zayn’s warm one again.

His light brown eyes seem to sparkle, as he whispers to Zayn, “If half of your body wasn’t covered in plaster, I’d have done more than kiss you. I’ve missed you so much, I want to kiss every part of your skin, I want to know every single inch of you, because if you decide to leave me again, I would at least have something to hold onto.”

“Fuck you for thinking I’ll ever leave you again,” he says, tries to pout, doesn’t think he manages it.

Liam plants a kiss on his puckered lips, “Never then?”

“Never,” he says, “Not even if the alternative was heaven.”

Liam chuckles, probably not knowing how much truth Zayn’s statement actually holds, “No, I think you’ll leave me then.”

“I won’t!” he says, mortally offended, “You suck, go away.”

He tries to turn his face away from Liam’s but Liam places a hand on his cheek, preventing him from looking away, “Hey, I am kidding. I’m just getting back at you because you made me suffer so much.”

“You’ve made me suffer for four years,” he says, “By being disgustingly adorable and incredibly beautiful.”

Liam’s cheeks turn pink, and he smiles, “You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not,” he says, “I am sure, even if I had actually seen heaven, I’d still say you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re pathetic, you make me feel so- I can’t even explain,” Liam says, “I can’t explain, how much I love you. And how much I want to love you. I am going to love you for as long as I want. As much as I want.”

Zayn smiles widely at that, “I’d like that very much.”

When Liam kisses him again, lips curved up in a satisfied smile, pressing against his like a beautiful promise, he hears a tiny voice in his head whispering, ‘ _Heaven_.’

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr.](http://ziamasf.tumblr.com/)


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